Desolation
by Starving For Attention
Summary: “I’ve got orders,” Draco said simply. “Orders to do what? Stand here and watch me walk around the empty room?” she snapped sarcastically. “No. To kill you.”


**Hello again!**

**Okay, I know it may sound hate-ish from the summary, but give it a try. It may turn out to be more than it seems... ;) Enjoy.**

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Hermione Granger was awakened suddenly from a deep sleep as she felt a hand clasp over her mouth, silencing her. A sliver of moonlight fell over her captor's face, and she let out a strangled cry as she looked into the face of Draco Malfoy. There was a dangerous glint in his eye and he held up the index finger of his free hand to his mouth, warning her to stay quiet, as he reached onto her bedside table and retrieved her wand before she could even attempt to do so. Her eyes flickered hopefully toward her bedroom door, willing her parents to barge in, but alas, no such thing occurred. Malfoy shook his head slightly and grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip. Hermione winced slightly as her left hand began to go numb, but before she could try to struggle free, they had disapparated.

Merely seconds later, Hermione found herself on the floor of an old, decrepit room. There was no furniture, no visible doors or windows, and the stone walls were covered in dust and cobwebs. She looked up and saw Malfoy standing over her imperiously, looking extremely put-together. He brandished his wand at her threateningly, but made no move to curse her. She tried her best to not look nervous, and focused all her willpower into looking braver and more defiant than she felt.

"Why did you take me here?" she asked quickly, surprised at how steady her own voice was, despite feeling like her stomach was twisting into knots.

"I've got orders," Draco said simply. He pocketed her wand and walked over to a nearby wall. He leaned against it heavily, still keeping a close eye on Hermione, his wand pointed directly at her.

"Orders to do what? Stand here and watch me walk around the empty room?" she snapped sarcastically.

"No."

Hermione looked at him, slightly annoyed at his refusal to relay any information. But she soon got her answer as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"To kill you," he spat.

She deadpanned, the color draining out of her face in record time. She stared at him, looking for an indication that it was a joke, some sort of trick. She thought she saw some unfamiliar emotion cross his face- sympathy, perhaps? But by the time it was recognizable, it had gone with another flourish of his wand.

"You're joking..." she whispered raspily, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I'm afraid not, Granger. Dark Lord's orders," he sneered.

Hermione looked away, every intention of hiding her emotions gone as her eyes filled with tears. She was wandless in an empty room. Powerless. At Malfoy's mercy. And yet...

"You're not going to kill me," she said quietly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Excuse me?"

"You're _not _going to kill me," she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

He pushed off the wall, striding over to her. "Really. And what makes you think that I won't?" he asked sardonically.

She stood up so she was almost level with him. "Because I'm in the exact same situation as Dumbledore." Malfoy clenched his jaw, looking murderous, and that gesture seemed to liberate Hermione as she continued. "I'm wandless, you have total control over me, you've hand all the time in the world to kill me if you wanted to, and you haven't. You've been sitting here, watching me, talking to me. Stalling. You're not gonna do it."

He reached out and swiftly grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifting her a few inches off the ground. "You don't know what I'm capable of," he ground out.

He glared at her for another moment, then released her. She stumbled slightly, but quickly stood up straight, looking directly into Malfoy's eyes.

"I know perfectly well what you're capable of. Cowardice. You're scared. Scared for your own pathetic excuse of a life. That's the only reason you're working under Voldemort. You're a coward," she spat, glaring daggers at him, traces of hatred evident in every syllable she spoke.

Draco snapped. He grabbed her shirt once again and threw her against the wall. "DON'T YOU **DARE** CALL ME A COWARD!" he bellowed, his face twisted into a look of pure contempt. Hermione shrunk against the wall in fear; she had never seen Malfoy this angry before. "You have **no idea **what I've been through!" he yelled manically, his face merely inches away from hers.

She narrowed her eyes slightly and pushed him off herself. "I don't need to! You're a selfish **bastard**! All you care about is yourself! You'd kill another person for the sake of saving your own skin!"

For a moment, it was silent. Malfoy's eyes bored into Hermione's, his breathing slow and heavy like he had just run a marathon. "You want to know why I'm selfish?" he asked rhetorically, his voice - now back to its normal volume - severely strained. "It's because I have _no one. _My parents are **dead. **Voldemort murdered them. If I don't fight for myself... I have nothing to fight for. I have nothing left, except my own will to keep myself alive," he choked out.

Hermione stared disbelievingly at Draco, her mouth slightly open. His breathing had become uneven and choppy; he wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes and tried to compose himself. He turned back to Hermione and raised his wand once again, but the hand that was so steady moments before was now shaking violently.

She backed against the wall slowly and looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Draco looked taken aback for a moment and glanced down, nodding slightly. When he looked back up at Hermione, her eyes were squeezed shut and her hands were curled into fists, trembling.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

There was a deafening thud as a body hit the ground.

And then there was silence.

Hermione opened her eyes hesitantly, marveling at the fact that it was possible. Was she a ghost?

No.

Draco Malfoy lay on the ground before her, his eyes shut tight, his wand held limply in his lifeless hand.

He was dead.

Hermione gasped loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth in shock. She felt paralyzed; she tried to take a step forward, but she found it near impossible. Finally, her hand left her mouth, and she rushed over to Draco, kneeling down next to him. She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek, feeling beads of cold sweat as she went. She sobbed softly, realizing the magnitude of what he did.

He saved her.

Hermione reached into his robes and retrieved her wand, her hand still shaking convulsively. She looked at his face once again, smiling slightly, and she leaned down and kissed him softly. "Thank you," she whispered raspily.

And with that, she disapparated.

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